HOWSKI OF SUTKOWSKI
  • Home
  • Blog du moment
  • Music
    • My Bands
    • My Album, "Natural Impressions," Lives Here!
  • Books
  • Whoski?
  • Writerly Deets

Happy birthday to my father and my biggest fan

10/7/2015

4 Comments

 
Picture
Photo by Lisa Rigby Photography
Maybe it’s just the goddamn preciousness of it all but whenever I talk to my Dad it makes me want to have a cry. So I do. Today is his birthday and I just got off the phone with him. I think what’s so intense about it is how sweet our relationship has become since he’s had Alzheimer's. It’s almost overwhelming to hear him tell me how much he loves me. It makes my heart hurt because I know I will cherish these memories. He’s just so very kind to me now. It makes me want to bawl my eyes out.

It reminds me of when my mother was sick and she and I were dancing at my sister Nancy’s wedding. I knew this would be the last time we danced together. I was so aware of every moment: her holding onto my arms, a huge smile on her face, the flashbulb and the photographer taking our photo. When I look at that photo now I adore her smile (and how long and red my hair was) and it’s tinged with that bittersweet memory of knowing this would be the last time.

“If you ever want to talk to someone who will really listen because they really care about you so much I’m here,” my Dad says. I thank him and hold back tears. “Or just for a quick chat. I’m here for that, too.” I tell him I'm here for him as well.

I tell him it makes me heart ache that I don’t visit that much. And he says he understands and my heart shouldn’t feel bad. He says he’ll call more when he thinks of me (but not every time he thinks of me because he thinks of me so often and that would be a “Daddy bore”). He tells me he can’t remember what the right words are.

“I’ll have to come up with my own words. Jennifer special words,” he says.

We talk about music as we always do and he compliments my skills in writing and music. I tell him again about my recent writing retreat to Carmel and how much it lit me up. He is so pleased to hear this. I thank him for never telling me trying to be an artist was a stupid idea. I tell him about the nourishing friendships I’ve cultivated over the last few years and how much I like getting enough rest and taking good care of myself and that turning 40 has actually been fantastic. This makes him happy, too (even though he’s forgotten I’m 40 — which is totally fine, of course). 

I’m so glad I can share these things with him. I want to leave him with an impression of me where even if he can’t remember the details he knows he doesn’t have to worry. I want him to know he helped me so much and that I’m finally able to fly on my own. 

“Save your money,” he says. I tell him I do and I will. 

Lately whenever we talk he tells me I should take up tennis. We discuss our wrist problems and golf and the sports he used to play. He talks about how in tennis you don’t have to do too much. 

“And you don’t have to run or even worry if the ball flies over the…” he pauses.

I think, “Cuckoo’s nest.”

“Cuckoo’s nest,” he says. And I tell him that’s exactly what I was thinking and we laugh. He corrects himself: “Net.”

Just…these moments. I don’t even know what to say. Our relationship was so different a few years ago and he was so tough but now he comes at me from this place of pure love. Like the way psychic mediums say your loved ones come through when they’re on the other side. Just so purely. I know he’s not always going to remember or even be this nice to me or even know who I am. It just simultaneously destroys me and lights me up every time. Ugly cry.
4 Comments
Cindy Allen
10/7/2015 04:13:54 pm

Awww girl...this is so heart wrenching and good. Hugs xoxoxox

Reply
Jenn Sutkowski
10/7/2015 05:25:53 pm

Thank you, Cindy!! XO

Reply
Joanna Bowen
10/8/2015 01:12:56 am

This is beautiful. I can feel the tug at my heart as you describe the gifts despite the pain in the final paragraph. My stepdad also has Alzheimer's and it's been a similar journey of softening that I've observed in him. Bittersweet. Broken. Beautiful. All at the same time.

Reply
Jenn Sutkowski link
10/8/2015 08:29:49 am

Thank you so much for sharing that, Joanna. I hope you and your family are doing well. What you're talking about -- it's something I never could have predicted.

Reply



Leave a Reply.

    RSS Feed

    Picture
    I insisted on having this kind of school photo taken in first grade and believed the serious face was a capture of my very soul. #soulphotobomb

    It's me, Jennifer Bernice (rhymes with "Furnace": it was my Granny's name) Sutkowski

    • More details about my writing here.

    Archives

    March 2024
    November 2022
    August 2022
    June 2022
    May 2022
    January 2022
    March 2021
    January 2021
    October 2020
    September 2020
    August 2020
    July 2020
    March 2020
    January 2020
    June 2019
    May 2019
    December 2018
    October 2018
    May 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    June 2015
    May 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014
    November 2014
    October 2014

      Sign up and get my free Embrace Your Voice Mini Journal!

    Yes. Press.
Like a tarot card wrapped in a pierogi swathed in a dream.
©2005-present Jenn Sutkowski unless otherwise noted and linked. No steal-y, no squeal-y. Privacy policy here.
Proudly powered by Weebly
  • Home
  • Blog du moment
  • Music
    • My Bands
    • My Album, "Natural Impressions," Lives Here!
  • Books
  • Whoski?
  • Writerly Deets